


The Art of Being Stubborn

by Lafeae



Series: Brotherhood [11]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Accident, Being a grown up, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 09:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: “I’m not cancelling it either, Mokuba. This will happen.”“Nii-sama, listen to me,” Mokuba pressed. He held a strong authority in his words, drawing the attention of both the technicians in the room. “We’re not going to do anything like that. I’m going to do the presentation, and you’re going to the hospital.”An accident forces a role reversal between the brothers at a major tech convention.





	The Art of Being Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really could see Mokuba presenting at E3 and making waves.
> 
> The word I was given for today was ‘podium’. I don’t know if this counts...lol

Mokuba knew the nerves were bad when Kaiba attempted no more than an overhanded shuffle of his deck. No tricks, no cutting, just straight and continued overhanded shuffling. Not even pacing.

They stood on the chaotic backstage of a main auditorium, littered by an impossible number of technicians, engineers, analysts, and varied other KaibaCorp employees who flew by their employers with little thought and a lot of adrenaline. Twenty minutes before they presented and unveiled what Kaiba had been unabashed in finishing before this expo.

This wasn’t just some tech demo. They’d flown to California for this, and planned on it being the crux for the next quarter.

Needless to say, Kaiba was more than nervous. As the CEO went over his speech, mouthing what was clearly English (refusing the easy outs of prerecording KaibaCorp’s unveil or having a translator potentially screw things up), Mokuba squirmed in his seat. These sorts of things were like life water to him; he had no trouble in front of crowds, though Kaiba rarely used him for more than small PR events that usually involved KaibaLand or announcements regarding a KC hosted tournament. Now, more than ever, he wished Kaiba would let him do the talking.

There was just something about his brother’s English. An edge was in Kaiba’s voice that Mokuba didn’t exactly like. While he may have been short spoken regularly, it made him seem harsh or cruel. His voice was higher, rougher. Maybe it was the nerves, Mokuba thought.

“Kaiba-sama!”

Footsteps clattered across the backstage, and a small woman was pushing by everyone to try and reach her boss. Mokuba jumped out of his seat.

“Kaiba-sama, we have a problem. A big problem,” she chattered. Some of the American technicians were staring while the rest of the KaibaCorp employees drew closer. An overweight man was following the woman, though already out of breath.

“Well, spit it out,” Kaiba demanded.

Thankfully, he was back to speaking Japanese. A more measured and relaxed form of the elder Kaiba appeared. Certainly more comfortable than the thought of going out and showing off his tech.

“We can’t get anything to load. All the cards keep disappearing off servers, the algorithm....”she was trying to think of what more to say, though a man settled a hand on her shoulder.

“There is some kind of disconnect, sir,” he said, a little more calm. “Something is scrambling the information of the cards versus the hologram that appears, if it appears at all.”

Kaiba looked down to the duel disk on his right arm. It was newer, sleeker design that left things nearly weightless. “Go start running a quick diagnostic on the program, I’ll take a look at the hardware.”

“Seto,” Mokuba tugged on Kaiba’s. “We don’t have a lot of time. Do you want me to start the—?”

“No,” Kaiba shook his head. “I think I know what the problem is. I’ve had it in the beta tests; it’ll take maybe ten minutes.”

They were already on their way over, Mokuba looking back while some of the stage crew wondered where the next presenter was going. He gave them a thumbs up and detached from his brother when they reached their private server room.

The woman was doing as Kaiba has asked, with a rush of programmed language scrolling up her screen. In a back corner a metal box, not much larger than a briefcase, was sitting and it’s casing being opened. Kaiba inserted his deck onto the disk before using a wire to attach it to the box. A small screen was filled with the same coded details, running through the possibilities, images of the cards flashing through.

“Nothing wrong in the code, Kaiba-sama,” the woman said.

Mokuba stepped closer to his brother and watched in awe he he fiddled through the small wires and prongs, eyeing any of the details on the small monitor. A genius in his comfort zone. Calm, collected, and confident in every small change he made. Mokuba loved to see his brother in his element.

Kaiba’s fingers would run over the disk, with a faded afterimage of all the parts that should have been there appearing for half a second. An attempt to draw out a starting hand. The cards appeared but changed before he could fully memorise them.

His hands plunged back into the box, the fat technician flashing a light into the bowels of it to aid his boss. Mokuba was perhaps the only one that saw, for a half a second, the way the disk on Kaiba’s arm lit up like it was activating, before the room was was washed in a bright flash and a low whir of electricity.

There wasn’t even a scream, Kaiba just flew to the floor unceremoniously and laid there for a several seconds, dragging the box where it was still connected to the duel disk. The fat technician flicked the cord with a pen to disconnect it, and Kaiba’s arm dropped with the rest of him.

“Nii-sama!”

“Call an EMT, Tanaka!” The fat technician shouted. The woman was running out of the room. “Oh my god, oh my god...Kaiba-sama...?”

Mokuba had his hands on Kaiba’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back, seeing where his eyes were open but unblinking. There was the smell something burnt, but as he released the duel disk from Kaiba’s arm, the tech was unaffected.

And it gave Mokuba the chance to see the blisters on his brother’s palms, almost equal on both hands. He was ginger to touch the backs of Kaiba’s hands and cradle them. Kaiba flinched, his back arching and his body contracting. The fat technician shrieked.

“Be...quiet...”Kaiba demanded. He sucked in air and let his body involuntarily stiffen again. Once it passed, and Kaiba laid on his back for more time than felt socially appropriate, he went to roll on his side, towards Mokuba.

“Seto, stay there you might be really hurt. Your hands...”

“I’m fine, Mokuba I—hng,” Kaiba found himself eating his words as he tried to place his palms flat on the floor and push himself up. Mokuba held onto his upper arm and helped him to sit up.

“You’re really pale,” Mokuba said. His hand touched Kaiba’s cheek. “And warm. Take your coat off, Seto. Here let me help you,” he yanked at the shoulders of the coat, knowing full well that Kaiba was going to try if he didn’t do it fast.

The woman came back with a blond security guard carrying a backpack over his shoulder.

“He...there is flash and...Kaiba-sama on ground...”the woman’s broken English was accompanied by frantic hand waving in Kaiba’s direction. Failed attempts from Kaiba to stop Mokuba kept occurring as Mokuba placed Kaiba’s coat along his shoulders. He tried pulling up the sleeve on Kaiba’s right arm, and saw a thin red burn line disappear under the fabric. But the blistered damage was along his forearm as well, the sleeve having a partial burn hole in it.

“I’ve been electrocuted,” Kaiba said in clean English. “I need to get this fixed up and be on stage in five minutes.” He held out his hands for the EMT to take care of.

The EMT shouldered over to Kaiba and knelt down. “Mr. Kaiba, sir, with all due respect, I’m a fan and I know what kind of day this is for you, but you really need to go to the hospital.”

“No. I don’t have time. You will do first-aid, only,” Kaiba looked back to the fat technician, switching to Japanese: “Yamasaki, try it again. It should be fixed. Be sure it’s ready for a quick demo.”

“Yes, Kaiba-sama...of course, Kaiba-sama...” The duel disk was picked up at arm’s length and set on the table, reactivated. 

The EMT was calling something into his radio faster than Kaiba could follow. But he did hear ‘delirious’, which only inspired more anger. Kaiba was ready to lung on the EMT when his head spun and his body buckled back into the desk nearby. Mokuba shifted to brace his brother under his arms and try to sit him upright.

“You aren’t in any condition to go out there. You can’t even get yourself off the floor,” Mokuba chided. “Let them take you to the hospital.”

“I won’t postpone this, Mokuba. I’ve spent too much time on this to just give up trip at the finish line—augh!” The EMT was already going to work to wrap gauze around the blistered digits. Mokuba could still see an involuntarily twinge in Kaiba’s back and shoulders.

“We won’t postpone it, Seto. I didn’t say that—“

Kaiba cut him off. “I’m not cancelling it either, Mokuba. This will happen.”

“Nii-sama, listen to me,” Mokuba pressed. He held a strong authority in his words, drawing the attention of both the technicians in the room. “We’re not going to do anything like that. I’m going to do the presentation, and you’re going to the hospital.”

“What? No, Mokuba, you don’t need to go through that. I’m not putting you through that.”

“Kaiba-sama. E-everything seems in order,” the fat technician announced.

“Okay. Awesome, thank you, Yamasaki,” Mokuba said. “Here, let me have it,” he said, taking up the duel disk and looking it over. He had his reservations about putting it on, considering what had just happened. But if Kaiba said it was fixed, he believed his brother. “I got this, Seto. You do a lot for me. I’m gonna go out there and kill it for us.”

Kaiba continued to wince as the EMT gave him slow instructions, somewhere in the belief that Kaiba couldn’t fully understand him. Kaiba pressed himself to stand, to stop Mokuba, but as did, he got a better look at the kind of kid he was raising. One hand was firm on Mokuba’s hip, the other up and inspecting the duel disk.

The EMT was attempting to hold onto him, to usher him out of the room. “No,” Kaiba said, and at first Mokuba was downtrodden, thinking he was being denied, ready to protest. Kaiba turned was addressing the EMT.  “I have to watch my brother do this. I’ll go after.”

“Mr. Kaiba...!”

“It’s okay,” Mokuba said in English, and continued: “He’ll do it; it will only be fifteen or twenty minutes. Standby for that, and then he’ll go with you. Right, big brother?” A grunt somewhere between ‘yes’ and ‘maybe’. “Promise?”

Mokuba knew better than to not get a direct answer. Kaiba nodded.

After, he took hold of Kaiba’s arm and shifted so that he was standing up and under Kaiba’s duster, feeling invincible in what felt like his brother’s battle armor, walking themtowards the backstage.

Gingerly, Mokuba placed Kaiba in a chair in front of many monitors, his usual spot for these sorts of events, and snapped the headset on him, waving the bandaged hands away. “Don’t do anything, nii-sama. Absolutely nothing!” Mokuba laughed.

“Mokuba—!”

He was gone, run off ahead. The presenters were in a buzz as Mokuba approached them a few minutes past KaibaCorp’s allotted time. Mokuba swung his arms and looked out to the crowd as he went running out onto the stage at the sound of his name being announced.

The sea of white eyes and shadow faces was all he could see beyond the lights. He settled behind a podium, walking up it and tapping on the microphone. He collected his thoughts, remembering the sorts of words his brother planned on saying at this event.

And promptly threw it all out of the window.

“KaibaCorp has always lead the pack in virtual reality and hologram technology, and today we have a real treat for you! Better access, fluidity, and ease of play. But to really show you the latest in duel disk technology, I’m gonna need a volunteer.”

From behind the monitors, Kaiba found a smile forming on his face. He tried to lean his cheek in his hand to his regret, flinching it back down to his lap and adjusting to pull himself closer as Mokuba worked the stage, walking around it with the microphone in hand. Like a singer enrapturing his crowd with a ballad.

Mokuba had energy that outshined Kaiba’s cool and direct manner. Especially when he personally went to pull someone out of the crowd and helped them up on the stage.

The whole demonstration went like a dream. Mokuba used his lack of knowledge on the product and used someone else, allowing a complete stranger to use the tech instead and figure it out as they went along. He never asked Kaiba a single question. And when Kaiba’s Blue Eyes appeared before the crowd, there was even more uproar.

“Mokuba-chan has some chops, Kaiba-sama,” the fat technician commented. “Not...not to outdo you, sir.”

“No, he outdoes me,” Kaiba replied. “I don’t know why I didn’t let him do this sooner.”

“Where did he learn that? He’s got them eating out of his hands.”

“I wouldn’t know. It wasn’t from me,” Kaiba said, and leaned back in the chair, his body weak, but it swelled with pride, more than he could ever comprehend. He wanted to run out and hug Mokuba, congratulate him, but he didn’t want to steal this moment from him.

It was Mokuba’s moment.

The presentation went on for forty minutes, with Kaiba hushing the EMT on multiple occasions, only letting him check pulse and temperature. He was too engrossed in this. When Mokuba ran to the backstage, breathless and spotted with sweat, his arms swung around Kaiba’s neck.

“Oh my god that was so crazy,” Mokuba beamed, high on energy. “Did I do alright?”

“Of course you did. Look at them,” Kaiba said. He could look at the energized crowd still in the audience. Mokuba pulled away and slipped the headset off Kaiba’s head. With the EMT still waiting, Mokuba pulled his brother to stand. A woman came back, asking for Mokuba. “They want to take pictures and ask more questions,” she said. And blanched to see Kaiba being escorted and struggling.

“Go on, Mokuba. Your crowd needs you.”

“Nah,” Mokuba said. “Gotta make ‘em wait. Make ‘em hungry for more. Drive up sales.”

Kaiba snorted. “What monster have I wrought?” He asked, mostly to himself. Mokuba leaned into him playfully.

“I learned from the best.”

“Hardly. I couldn’t have done that,” Kaiba said, though it wasn’t meant to be aloud. He had refused to go in an ambulance, not wanting to draw more attention to himself than necessary. Mokuba was confused, sitting across from him in the car.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my egomaniac?” Mokuba asked, convinced that the electricity had warped Kaiba’s mind.

“What did you call me?” Kaiba asked.

Mokuba stuck out his tongue. “Nothing,” he laughed. “Did I really do okay, or were you just saying that?”

“Mokuba, you did better than the best job: you did a good job. Really.”

It sounded so backwards, but Mokuba knew exactly what Kaiba meant. The highest praise from a man known for few compliments to his employees. A good job. Mokuba beamed.

“Thanks, Seto,” he said, and shifted to sit beside Kaiba. To get another look at his bandaged hands. “I wish it hadn’t happened this way, though. Are you okay?”

“Fine. And you were going to do this someday, somehow. Why not now?”

“Guess you’re right,” Mokuba said. “I’m going to do a good job taking care of you, too, you know.”

Kaiba smiled. “I’m sure you will.”


End file.
